


all my nerves and reservations, my instincts for self-preservation, melt away with you behind the wheel

by showzen



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Autistic Abed Nadir, Idiots in Love, M/M, Troy Barnes has adhd, theyre literally both so in love w each other but theyre so completely stupid abt it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:54:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29865297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showzen/pseuds/showzen
Summary: It’s nothing new, not really. He’s aware he’s been somewhat in love with Troy almost since they first met, but he’s also aware that as close as he and Troy are, people don’t tend to like him, especially not in that way, because, well. He’s Abed. So he had resigned himself a long time ago to the fact that they would just be friends—best friends, but just that, and Abed would sustain himself on the closeness and the small physical touches and the late nights talking about feelings.(or: 𝅘𝅥𝅮 troy and abed at the world's end! 𝅘𝅥𝅮)
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	all my nerves and reservations, my instincts for self-preservation, melt away with you behind the wheel

Abed rolls the pill bottle around in his hand and listens to the rattle inside. Two pills, maybe just one, are left. The idea of being off his antipsychotics is a concerning one, but, little can be done, he supposes.

“Last dose,” he calls out.

“Last dose!” Troy responds from the other side of the van. Abed can hear the rattle of another bottle, heavy footsteps, then Troy’s head pokes into the blanket fort. He’s been rationing his Ritalin, and it shows—it’s something Abed doesn’t understand, but there’s a lot about Troy that he doesn’t understand. He’s long since learned to be okay with that.

Troy shuffles into the fort and settles himself comfortably beside Abed. If Abed says so himself, this is the best blanket fort they’ve ever designed; it’s seven pillows tall in the corners, comfortable headroom, and the floor is carpeted with a few layers of duvet. The construction is solid. He’s proud of it.

Troy opens his palm and shows off the flat red pill. Abed shows him his own little round yellow one.

“Three, two, one,” says Troy, and then they both throw back their heads and dry swallow their pills (even though you’re  _ supposed _ to have a drink with them).

Abed sighs. “I wish we weren’t out of medication.”

Troy makes a noise of agreement. 

There’s a long moment of silence, and then Abed says, “I’m gonna go check outside.”

“‘Kay.” Troy flops his head back on a pillow and shuts his eyes, and Abed looks at him for one moment too long before rapidly turning his head and shuffles out of the fort.

Their living space is now a stolen-van-turned-part-kitchenette-turned-bedroom. They had found it abandoned at the side of the road on the Last Day, and over time, they’ve fitted it with comfy things, comforting things, a paraffin stove. The walls are plastered with old movie posters. They used to have working TV, but the aerial got torn off the roof a few weeks ago—at least he kept his DVDs. They’ve seen  _ The Dark Knight  _ more times than most people could stomach, but neither of them mind. Besides, it’s the version with the director’s cut. There’s enough content to keep them going.

He takes the ladder on the wall, pushes the trapdoor to the roof open and scrambles out. It’s not the most graceful thing, particularly when you’re six feet of pure tangling limb, but it works.

Instinctively, he picks up the shotgun by the hatch, cocks it, and holds it up, scanning the dusty wastes and abandoned buildings around the van. No zombies, that’s good. He doesn’t take his eyes off the interior of the remaining structures, cast in shadow from the sunset, though. Can’t be too careful. He pads to the edge of the van’s roof and sits down cross-legged, gun aimed squarely at the buildings even as his mind wanders.

Abed doesn’t know why he came up here. Maybe it’s because he’s worried about zombies. Maybe it’s because being near what was clearly once a town makes him homesick. 

Maybe it’s because being around Troy these days makes his stomach squirm.

It’s nothing new, not really. He’s aware he’s been somewhat in love with Troy almost since they first met, but he’s also aware that as close as he and Troy are, people don’t tend to like him, especially not in  _ that _ way, because, well. He’s Abed. So he had resigned himself a long time ago to the fact that they would just be friends—best friends, but  _ just _ that, and Abed would sustain himself on the closeness and the small physical touches and the late nights talking about feelings. He had been happy with that.

But things have changed in the time since the Last Day. They already spent the majority of their time together back when they were roommates, but since that day, it’s not like they’ve had anyone else to be with. Troy sits closer than he used to, so their shoulders bump together and he can laughingly apologise, his eyes creasing as he smiles in that specific way of his. Before, they had separate blankets when they watched movies; now, Troy insists on sharing, says it’s more ‘ernogomic’ (Abed thinks he means ergonomic, and also that he thinks ergonomic means something that it doesn’t). He’s caught Troy’s fingers trying to interlace with his on a few occasions, but when questioned, he always claims it was an accident.

Abed doesn’t know what it means. He knows what he  _ hopes  _ it means.

But Abed is often wrong.

He’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts that when Troy is suddenly there, tapping his shoulder, he  _ seizes up _ , flinches away hard, and fires the shotgun off into one of the old buildings.

“Shit!” Troy yelps, his voice going all high-pitched. Abed turns, and he’s standing there, palms raised placatingly. “I’m sorry, Abed. Shit, I’m sorry. I thought you heard me.”

“It’s okay,” he says. His voice sounds more strangled than it should, so he clears his throat and straightens his back (and clicks the safety on) and tries again. “It’s okay. Sorry. I was just.” He swallows. “Thinking.”

Troy sits down beside him, his legs dangling down. A contrast to Abed’s own folded ones. “I was thinking, too.”

“Cool.” Abed says, for lack of anything else to say. “Cool, cool, cool.”

There’s a long moment of silence, but not awkward silence. It's a comfortable silence. Eyes half-closed facing the warm orange sunset, sitting (closer than before) beside his favourite person in the multiverse, this silence is like a breath between words stretched out to lightyears, a lull in a long and constant conversation. 

“Can I ask you something?” Troy says.

“You just did,” Abed says, setting aside the shotgun. “But yes.”

Troy halts after that. He leans forward as if the words got all the way to his mouth and then dissipated. A few seconds pass, and Abed cocks his head. “What?”

“Um,” says Troy. He shuffles in place, inching a little closer to him. Abed feels their legs brush together. It feels like burning spots on the sun.

And then Troy kisses him.

It’s good— _ so _ good—but clumsy and awkward, the position of their bodies nonoptimal, and the suddenness of it  _ scares _ Abed and abruptly he realises he has to  _ not be touching him anymore or he’s going to freak out _ —

He breaks away, harsh and quick, and falls back on his elbows, staring at Troy with some mixture of fear, happiness, confusion, surprise, on his face. Troy stares back, with what Abed thinks is embarrassment.

There’s a silence. This one  _ is  _ awkward.

Then Troy scrambles away, like he’s desperate to put some distance between them, gets to his feet. “I’m sorry. God, I—I don’t even know what I was thinking. I don’t know. Shit, I’m so…” He covers his face, looks away.

Abed’s brow furrows. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

He sits up carefully, and then quietly says, “Will you sit down again?”

Troy looks up. “What?”

“Will you sit down again? Please?”

He looks for a moment in disbelief, but he does. Their legs aren’t touching anymore. Abed wishes they were. His heart thumps in his chest.

“Can we do that again?” It all comes out in a rush. “Um, but slower. And with more warning.”

Troy blinks, and blinks again, and then his face warms with that  _ smile  _ of his, bright and earnest and Abed’s favourite thing in the world. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Abed says, and then leans in to kiss him.

It’s better this time. Much,  _ much  _ better. Troy’s face is warm against the cooling air, the feeling is vivid against the purple just-after-sunset sky, and without his knowledge Abed finds his arms coming around Troy’s back, and Troy’s coming around his, and pulling each other closer and closer.

They break apart a minute or so later, Troy giggling like a teenager on a cinema date, Abed just smiling broadly, unbreakably.

“What did you think?” Abed asks.

Troy thinks for a moment. “10/10.”

He gasps. “Better than  _ The Dark Knight _ .”

“Thousand times.”

“Okay, it was great, but it wasn’t  _ that  _ good.” Abed corrects, only half-winkingly, and stands. “We should go inside.” 

Troy nods, and leads the way. 

Abed pauses for a moment on the roof.

Today went better than he thought it would.

**Author's Note:**

> hey, thank you so much for reading! big shoutout to my lovely betas [hazzarats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazzarat) and [steviesbucks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steviesbucks)! my twitter is @showzens, though i don't communitypost there as much as i should


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